


The waves that pull us under

by SonataNocturne



Category: Asking Alexandria, Sleeping With Sirens
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Randomness, Sad, Slash, Smut, Tour Bus Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:17:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonataNocturne/pseuds/SonataNocturne
Summary: Ben doesn't even know what to do with himself, or with the anger. And Kellin happens to be around, challenging him.





	The waves that pull us under

**Author's Note:**

> The tags look bad like that but okay, this wasn't even supposed to be light stuff.

 

  

 

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Sipping his beer he leans against the side of the bus. There’s something about that whole day that has made him annoyed. More than usual. Whether it is Danny running his mouth again, his guitar breaking in the middle of a song or just the fact that their tour was long and he wants to go home, he doesn’t know. And sadly now it seems even the alcohol won’t blur enough his mind. He puffs out a cloud of smoke and stares at the burning end of the cigarette in his shaky hand. The others had gone to a club and he is just glad they didn’t even ask him to go with them, probably because he was in such a pissy mood. He would have just caused a fight with Danny to get his anger out, which would have lead to other problems. Shaking his head he drops the cigarette on the ground and throws the beer bottle into the darkness, hoping it will crash to the wall. Instead, there’s an instant angry yelp as it hits someone.

 

“What the fuck? Why’d you throw beer bottles?” the guy steps out from the shadow rubbing his arm.

 

“Why the fuck are you standing in the darkness? Were you spying on me or something?”

 

He recognises the guy as Kellin Quinn, even though the dyed blond hair must be a new thing.

 

Maybe it’s the fact that Ben doesn’t apologise or that his voice is laced with spite that makes Kellin approach him.

 

“No. I was just walking by. But why are you talking like that?” he narrows his eyes and stares back at Ben boldly.

 

Ben wonders did he finally meet someone to argue with.

 

“Not your fucking business, ain't it?" Ben huffs then, like testing the waters.

 

"Well fuck you too", Kellin mumbles deciding it's time to leave.

 

Ben really acts on a whim, and grabs a fistful of Kellin's hair, "Oi! Wasn't finished!"

 

Kellin spins around, his hand grasping Ben's wrist. Trying to find the balance he falters, causing them to stumble against the side of the bus. A breath catches in his throat as he stares back at the guitarist. Ben's mind freezes for a second. He doesn't even know what he is doing. But Kellin so close to him his eyes same time deficient and surprised were making his insides twist.

 

"Then finish what you fucking started."

 

For while Ben thinks he imagined those words. That Kellin didn't actually say it. Especially when the tone in the voice was so perfectly suggesting.

 

And then he really doesn't even think. He reaches to open the bus door and still fingers tangled in Kellin's strands he pushes him inside and closes the door behind them. 

 

It’s dark and Ben can only barely see. He pushes Kellin past the bunks who scrambles forward, his chest almost touching Ben’s. The way he arches his back to release some of the tension in his scalp causes Ben to gasp for air. Swallowing thickly, soft lips parting, while his eyes keep the defiant glare. It isn’t what Ben planned. It really isn’t. But nothing ever had been. And that means he is going to see it through unless Kellin tells him to really fuck off.

 

When they finally reach the back lounge of the bus he doesn’t even care that Kellin’s back slams against the table. He knows it hurts as it’s the first place he always hits himself while drunk. And then he can’t move. Still hand fisting the hair he stares at the other in the darkness. Kellin swallows thickly and Ben wonders does he sense fear. Arousal certainly, but the rest is hidden. The other seems like he is waiting for his next move. Not completely pliant, but more defiant.

 

"What now?" Kellin asks, probably frustrated because of their position. The small of his back still firmly against the rough edge of the table.

 

"I... don't know", Ben answers. But he does. He does know what he wants to happen next, but not should it. His head is spinning, pulse racing, as he patiently waits for an answer. Some kind of an answer.

 

"Finish what you started", Kellin says again his breath fanning Ben's neck.

 

But Ben still stares at the other. He hates himself for being that way and maybe asking for permission makes it more acceptable.

 

"Fucking do it", Kellin spits and the tone in his voice, so challenging, pushes Ben over the ledge.

 

Releasing the hair he grabs now the other's shoulders and pushes him roughly on the couch. It's small, and he knows perfectly well how the fake leather feels against bare sweaty skin, but he isn't here to feel comfortable. He doesn't want to feel at all.

 

As Kellin clings onto his shirt Ben leans hard against him and clashes their mouths together. It isn't even a kiss. It is just an angry mouth colliding with a confused one, quickly yielding. Kellin moans softly against his lips which sends a set of shivers down his spine.

 

The surge through him, a strange mixture of pain and anger is laced with desire and he ponders will it help. That will  _this_  help. The fingers find his waistband, curling to release the button. Then the zip is being tugged and he has to pull back.

 

"Don't", he murmurs and moves the hands away.

 

_Not like that._

 

Kellin obeys, without questioning and stays still. As much as he can. Ben's hands are quick and hasty, still shaky. Yanking and pulling the fabric, trying to get forward. To reach some point that he doesn't really know to exist. He chokes and for a moment he fears he is losing himself.

 

When he gets Kellin's jeans and shoes off of him he is already inflamed. More clothes tossed aside, now his. Then he leans over the other to remove his shirt. Kellin's skin is cold under his hands, but so delicately smooth. He bites his lip so that he wouldn't say things. Things that he would regret later.

 

The other stares back at him while he halts. Ben tries to absorb the feel. Anything that would replace the anger inside of him. Shivering Kellin shifts slightly as he hovers over him. He is still uncertain about it all. Maybe it isn’t the best idea after all. Swallowing thickly he stares at the other straight into his eyes. Then frowns and leans back up to find the lube. Every passing second he feels strange. It isn’t like it’s supposed to be but at the same time, it never had been more right.

 

Kellin should have said something when he pushes inside him, Ben thinks. But he doesn’t. His mouth opens to a silent scream. Or is it a moan? He doesn’t even know. And he himself feels the pain, somewhere deep inside. The fingers curl around his biceps and now he has to fight the urge to slap the other.

 

“Don’t”, he growls, the words almost getting stuck into his throat.

 

Almost imperceptibly Kellin squirms under him as he grabs the wrists and pins them up above his head and finds a vehement speed. Trying to reach  _something,_  anything, not knowing will it even help. But now he is immersed in the pleasure. Burning on his every nerve, making it so hard to focus on the movement.

 

Kellin moans again and bites down to his lip. He looks like he is trying to avert something from transpiring. Teetering between breaking down and yelling at him to fuck him faster. Eyebrows knitting together he yanks his hands and for a second Ben feels sorry for him. Kellin had been just on his way and now he was being fucked like a dirty groupie. And he has seen it before so many times to know where it leads to.

 

And he can’t look at it anymore. Not that face that’s so expressive. Because he is sure he interprets it wrong. That Kellin isn’t actually feeling what he looks like he is.

 

“Turn around”, he murmurs, his voice low, and pulls out to give some space for the other.

 

Kellin sits up but before Ben realises he has swung his leg and is sitting on his lap. He freezes. The cold fingers trail over the tattoos on his chest and the collarbones, while Kellin slowly grinds into him.

 

And now he thinks of hitting him. To really make it hurt. But Kellin doesn’t deserve it. Not even when the doe-like eyes glisten so brightly in the dark, asking for him to act. To  _do something_. He is perfectly innocent.

 

But then he does. Maybe he can’t even control himself anymore. What other explanation would there be how they ended up there in the first place? And Kellin doesn’t even flinch. His lips part slightly and then his tongue darts to lick the blood off of the corner of his mouth. But Ben is sure he sees the shadow of a doubt now in the eyes as the other continues to stare back at him. His palm stings from the slap, but even if the overwhelm is now on the surface, the anger is still there. Still bitter on his tongue.

 

“Don’t. You can’t fucking do that”, he says and Kellin lets out a breath that could sound like a scared one if Ben would care.

 

Grabbing Kellin by the arm he forces him roughly up from his lap, and while the other tries to keep up he manhandles him around. He doesn’t care that the arm twists painfully and Kellin’s face hits the cushion. It really is now what it is. The anger surges through him and he barely gives enough time for Kellin to steady his position.

 

There is a small  _fuck,_ barely a coherent word, between the breathy gasps and then a high pitched scream bounces in the air as he rams right back in. As it fades finally into a moan Ben has to take a breath. To focus on breathing. It was all caving in on him so fast and now he absolutely knows he is a failing miserably. He fumbles, just for a second, and releases the wrist he still had been squeezing. Kellin's fingers grasp onto the armrest and another deep moan leaves his lips. Drooping his head low Ben cringes and tries to find some kind of steady pace again.

 

And he fucking hates himself. Now even more than usually. He doesn't even  _know_  himself anymore. Thrusting in and clawing the tender skin on Kellin’s sides, he bites his lip, muffling the moan that was about to leave his lips. But the way Kellin squirms under him yet again, like he can’t contain himself, riles him up like nothing before. The other is basically begging him to continue. To go faster. To do that  _something_  again. And then he arches himself up to Ben and he gasps. By instinct, he leans back and now Kellin is on his knees, back against his chest, basically sitting on his lap. He can feel as the other takes shuddering breaths, and it's so enthralling. The long hair brushes his face as Kellin tilts his head back to rest it on his shoulder. Staring at the parted lips eliciting all kinds of delicious tiny sounds Ben feels himself shattering within. The sadness washes over him and he has to force himself to stay calm on the outside, while on the inside he couldn't be more agitated.

 

Then he trails his hand across Kellin’s chest and on his throat while the other keeps riding him. He can’t move. Something inside him is twisting, squeezing, and it's harrowing. He frowns as he feels Kellin swallow and then another moan vibrates against his hand. Maybe it’s because Kellin is lost in his pleasure, completely pliant against him. Or maybe it’s because he feels something he shouldn’t feel. He wraps his fingers tighter around the throat and listens as the other gasps for air for a few times, wheezing, and shudders then. Kellin's own fingers find his hand, nails scraping his skin. And then he can't take that sound anymore.

 

He slams the other back on the couch fingers now finding the blond strands. Holding Kellin there hand firmly in the back of his head he tries to swallow the lump forming in his throat, but it won't do anything. He feels like choking, screaming and crying at the same time. Utterly lost in himself, feeling like being torn apart.

 

Chasing the end desperately, some kind of closure, he dugs his fingers to Kellin's waist, grasping and clawing the flesh. Pulling the hair with his other hand he shivers when the other lets out a miserable whine. It must hurt. But so it hurts him too. The skin in Kellin's neck is taut as he yields in, head pulled back. Ben closes his eyes when he sees a glistening drop on Kellin's jawline.

 

Then the climax consumes him and he buries his face to Kellin's back. Breathing he listens to his hammering heart and tries to ignore Kellin's muffled whimpering and trembling. The now warm skin feels perfect, but everything else isn't. It's just one big mess and there's no way out of it.

 

An agonizing moment later he gets a grip from his last remaining piece of self-control and draws back. Kellin doesn't move in a long while. He just lays there trying to get his breathing steady. Ben blinks his eyes but sits still when the other finally crawls up. Hanging his head low Kellin swallows thickly and Ben already knows what's coming.

 

Slowly Kellin turns around and comes to straddle him and yet again Ben feels paralyzed. Despite what just happened, the other is still there. Still in the fucking bus with him. The tear-stained face blank. A breath catches in his throat as Kellin's hand guides his hand to jerk him off. He obeys the hand clasping around his and watches as Kellin throws his head back moaning. Overwhelmed he frowns, the anger again burning him up. His other hand trails back to the hair, pulling hard. Kellin gasps for air but doesn't faze. He pulls harder and he knows it's too much. But he doesn't care. The other whines and climaxes over their hands suddenly. Panting Kellin stays still, his eyes finding Ben's. He waits patiently for Ben to release the grip on his hair, the bliss clouding up his mind.

 

And Ben wants to disappear. Feeling like choking again, the hate and anger fighting inside him. He drops his hand. Kellin stares back at him still, like trying to read his state of mind. As if his hollow eyes wouldn't tell enough. The mouth fuses with his and he can taste the salty tears. It's just a sloppy kiss. Lips rough against each other, both more just biting and moaning. Maybe Kellin was trying to make a point. Maybe he was trying to tell it was okay. But why should he care when he never has? And  _how_  it could even be okay?

 

Ben shoves the other sharply and he falls on the dirty floor. Kellin lets out a pain-filled yelp and bites down to his lip then. A while they stare at each other in silence. Kellin looking sad and confused, Ben angry and overwhelmed. But it doesn't matter. It's all over now. His heart is aching and the only thing he wants now is Kellin to leave him alone. He huffs and rakes his stubborn hair back from his eyes.

 

“Where does it come from?”

 

He frowns, not understanding.

 

“The pain”, Kellin mumbles and wipes his wet face with his hand. His lip had started to bleed again after the kissing and somehow the mix of blood and tears on his pretty face fills Ben's heart with something unimaginable.

 

“How… just piss off”, Ben manages to choke out.

 

As Kellin gets dressed in silence, not looking at him he tries not to scream. And when the bus door finally slams shut the only thing repeating in his head is his own song. And how much it really does hurt, and how the mess is only his own creation.

 

 

 

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**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos and reviews are also highly appreciated.


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